


The Power & Majesty of Nature

by LeeBlack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he could remember, thunderstorms fascinated Derek. His grandmother fostered that fascination, and his thirst for answers in mythology. His hope to one day find a dragon was amusing, to say the least.</p>
<p>And then the fire. </p>
<p>Derek had to put off the search for his dragon to focus on survival, though he never quite gave up his secret hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Power & Majesty of Nature

For as long as he could remember, thunderstorms fascinated Derek. 

When Derek was young - before the fire, or Kate, before Paige, even before he’d managed a successful full shift, his siblings chose to weather the storms in the soundproofed basement with a steady supply of Disney movies pumped loud enough to drown out the thunder. Derek, on the other hand, would spend his time in the living room, his face pressed against the wall-sized windows. He’d watch the lightning crack over the trees, goosebumps rippling up and down his arms whenever the next strike was coming. 

Neither his mother nor his father really understood his interest, but his grandmother Olivia shared his fascination. She took it upon herself to join him whenever a storm was coming, taking him out on the back porch.

After Derek had mastered his full shift, two months after his eleventh birthday, things got even better. Whenever a storm was circling Beacon Hills, his grandmother would take him out, the two of them in a full shift, and they’d chase the storm for hours. 

During fairer weather, Olivia would tuck him into bed at night, telling him stories of the most powerful storms in the world. She soon ran out of stories about rain, though, and so she moved on to mythical creatures - thunderbirds and dueling gods and great, flaming serpents. But one creature was by far his favorite.

Dragons.

Olivia easily picked up on Derek’s favoritism and nurtured it, telling him stories about all kinds of dragons.

Wingless Indian Nagas that guarded treasures of gold and silk and bathed themselves on the rocks near the waterways they claimed for themselves.

A Norse dragon that lived below the World Tree, always eating away at the bindings of the world to bring about the arrival of Ragnarok and the destruction of the world. 

Quetzalcoatl, the plumed serpent, who took the form of the amphiptere to punish those who did not worship him.

The nine-headed Hydra fated to be the adversary of the Christian St. Michael.

Five-toed Chinese dragons that once joined humans in their celebrations of the New Year, dancing along with the drums to bring good fortune to those who joined them in peace.

It became commonplace to find Derek and his grandmother in the family library, poring over a book to learn about a new dragon. Months and years passed, and new stories became harder and harder to find.

On Derek’s fourteenth birthday, though, his grandmother gave him a small, leather-bound journal. It smelled old, and she made him promise to take very good care handling the journal. When he opened the journal later that day, he happened upon his favorite dragon story.

The journal was written by an old woman who spent most of her life in a nomadic tribe that moved through Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, and as far as he could tell, everything written in her journal was unique to that tribe and had never been recorded anywhere else.

...

Among the stories of conflicts with other tribes and encounters with shape shifters and Fae alike, was the story of a Chuvashian dragon. It hatched too young and already orphaned from hunters, and was close to death before being taken in by a traveling Druid. The Druid, himself an orphan, was named only as Roke, cared for the newly hatched dragon, which he gave the name Fulger.

Fulger grew strong under Roke’s care, flourishing with the magic that Roke wove into his scales to protect him. Fully grown, Fulger was larger than a castle, with green and gold scales, and large, leathery wings that were enough to cover an entire village. With one breath, he could breathe enough fire to burn men to ashes, but he never attacked without cause - he only stole food for himself and his Druid.

Because of his enormity and the threat of his teeth, which were larger than a full grown man, and his claws, which were strong enough for him to carry away fattened livestock, people everywhere feared Fulger and hunted him down, intent on killing him. 

Roke did what he could to protect his dragon, weaving increasingly complex magic to keep him hidden. Finally, when the hunters hired mages to assist their searches, Roke performed a spell that would allow Fulger to take the form of a human, allowing him to walk without fear past those hunting him. 

The two of them sought refuge in a small mountain village where Roke had many friends. Roke spent much of his time in the village, assisting the humans and shifters without prejudice. Fulger found allies amongst the shifters, but spent most of his time in his true form, soaring through the mountains and hunting goats. They lived there in peace for only a short time before the mages descended upon the village, having found out Roke’s tricks. Mages and hunters alike ambushed Roke one night, capturing him and torturing him, demanding to know where Fulger was.

Roke kept his silence.

When Fulger returned to the home he shared with Roke only to find his Druid stolen, his anger was not to be contained. He broke Roke’s spell, eliminating his human form and flew high, screaming for Roke to be returned to him.

The shifters and humans loyal to the Druid tried to help in their search, but fell victim to the traps left by the hunters, leaving Fulger alone in his quest.

He went North and found nothing, but the nomadic tribes there agreed to start their own search. Fulger had no luck in the South or East, either.

When he flew West, though, Fulger found the hunters hiding in ancient ruins. They had Roke imprisoned in an old cave, and were still torturing him for Fulger’s location.

As dawn came and he was able to see that his Druid was murdered, Fulger’s fury reached it’s breaking point. He screamed Roke’s name, attracting the attention of the hunters. He lured them toward an open clearing and landed, burning them all away while still screaming Roke’s name.

There was nothing but fire in the wake of his fury. Not even the ashes remained.

When his revenge was complete, Fulger retrieved Roke’s body, cradling him as gently as the Druid had once held him. He brought the body back to their mountain village, where their friends and allies laid him out, treating his body like that of a king. They told Fulger that he was welcome to stay with them; that they would protect him as one of their own.

Fulger refused. He cast one final glance at his Druid’s body and flew West, returning to the cave where Roke had been murdered.

His rage returned and he tried to burn it away, though he only made scorch marks.

With the cave still warm from his fire, he settled in, intent on mourning alone. He remained inside the cave for days, weeks, months. 

When he finally emerged again, he found a dozen dead, fat pigs laid out for him. Hesitant, he looked around for hunters, but found no sign of them.

Instead, what he found was the flag of the mountain village planted just outside the cave’s entrance. It was a sign of alliance, that Fulger was a friend of the village for as long as the flag stood. 

He pulled the food, the offerings of peace and friendship, into the cave, and ate his fill before leaving and taking flight.

Fulger flew over the mountain village and found that they were flying a second flag. Not only was their village flag flying, but so was a new one - pale yellow with a rendering of a dragon in green on it - flying above the village flag. This was a sign of great respect, essentially naming Fulger their king.

He returned to his cave but knew he would return their honor and keep safe the village and everyone who lived there. 

And for the next years, decades, centuries, that the two flags were flown together, Fulger protected his village from every threat that presented itself. Hunters were burned away, other dragons were devoured, and soldiers seeking to overrun the village were trampled. Anyone looking to harm the village or its inhabitants was confronted by an enormous dragon, scales green and gold, teeth as large as a grown man, wings enough to cover his village, and the ability to breathe fire so strong not even ashes would be left.

...

Derek quickly memorized that story, often thinking of Fulger. Wondering if he was still alive today, if he ever existed, and if that mountain village still stood. He and Olivia made plans to one day try to find the village, all the while making the full shift and chasing thunderstorms through the Preserve.

As he grew older, his enthusiasm settled but his fascination remained.

And then life happened.

First came Paige, with her hard-earned smiles and the scent of honeysuckle and cherry blossoms. Even through everything, after Derek’s eyes went forever blue, that scent never faded. He still couldn’t catch a hint of honeysuckle without feeling the lurch in his chest, and even though they were both young, he still sometimes thinks they would have been as good together as Derek’s parents. 

Derek changed in the months after Paige’s death. Where there once had been happy, if reserved, sort of optimism, there was now a sullen, angry hostility about him. Derek no longer joined Olivia on runs during thunderstorms, nor did he read any of the lore he and his grandmother had shared with each other.

Instead, when a storm came, he was more likely to pull on his full shift and run through the rain to hide his scent, and then he’d go somewhere where no one else had supernatural senses.

It was at one such place - a dive bar outside of Beacon Hills where the bartenders didn’t care that he was well shy of legal drinking age - that he happened upon a gorgeous older woman who told him to just call her Kate.

Their interactions only fostered Derek’s hostility with his pack. When he came back to the house smelling faintly of Chanel No. 5 and liquor, they started asking questions. Not that he answered them with more than a grunt or a shrug. This worked, or it seemed to, until Laura had decided that the best way to get a straight answer out of her brother was to pin him to the wall and use her status as future Alpha to force him to answer her. 

Needless to say, that did not end well. Two couches, an armchair, a coffee table and a flatscreen television were destroyed, blood was drawn, and the two of them were almost completely shifted before Talia and Olivia finally managed to pull them off of each other.

Derek got a humiliating scolding in which his mother told him that it was not his place to attack his future Alpha, no matter the reason. He was only a Beta, after all, and would only end up getting hurt in the process.

Olivia had butted in on her grandson’s behalf, shaming Talia for allowing Laura such an abuse of privilege. Later that night, when it was just the two of them in the library (Olivia on the couch and Derek on the floor next to her legs), Olivia ran a hand through Derek’s hair, eliciting a contented rumble from Derek, and praised him. “A Beta’s trust and loyalty has to be earned,” she’d told him. “It’s not something that an Alpha can force from you, not if they want to live long enough to benefit from that trust, that loyalty.”

Derek hadn’t said anything, but closed his eyes and rested his head against her thigh. He’d been ready to kill Laura, he’d had his fangs on Laura’s throat before Talia had yanked him off of his sister and thrown him clear into the other room. He hadn’t submitted to his mother, either, and both she and Laura saw that. What they had seen, however, was the way Derek immediately submitted to Olivia’s authority, even though she hadn’t been Alpha for over twenty years. He’d be paying for that later, he knew.

Olivia hummed quietly for a few minutes, a song that Derek knew sounded familiar but couldn’t quite place, still running her hand through Derek’s hair. When she finished humming, she tugged lightly, getting his attention and allowing him to look up at her without having to bare his throat.

He did it anyway, able to trust his grandmother in a way he couldn’t his mother or sister.

She smiled at him, her expression a bit sad. “I worry about you, pup.”

“I’m fine, Livy,” he said. He thought about giving her the fake smile that had worked on the rest of the pack before the fight, but thought better of it. She’d always been able to see through his nonverbal lies, no matter how much he tried to hide them.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe,” Olivia said. “There may not be dragons in the world, pup, but there are many other things just as dangerous.”

Derek nodded. “I promise,” he said, his eyes drifting closed again.

...

Two months later, just days after he and Laura graduated high school, his house and pack were eaten by fire.

All that was left of Derek’s life was his still angry, newly-Alpha sister, and Peter, who was half dead and lying comatose in a human hospital. 

The memory of Kate’s cold, cruel laughter when he asked her if she knew about the fire, her confession to planning and starting the fire, and her simpered, “I only let you live because you give good head, mutt, but I don’t like playing with strays. I might catch something,” were playing on a loop in his head, paralyzing him.

When Laura shoved him in the back of her Mustang, told him they were going to the city, and drove out of Beacon Hills before the ashes had cooled, he said could say nothing. Wanted to say nothing. Cursed every thought he’d ever had about fire, about dragons, even about thunderstorms. Even though he knew the house fire hadn’t been caused by a stray lightning strike. 

As they left California, they drove through a heavy thunderstorm. 

Laura glared at him, as if it was somehow his fault they were driving through rain. 

Derek just turned his head and looked out the back window in time to watch lightning strike the road behind them. He still couldn’t stop the ripple of goosebumps up his arms as the thunder rumbled above them.


End file.
